


a star among stars

by sinequanon



Series: mortal night [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Teen Wolf (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fae & Fairies, M/M, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9724445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinequanon/pseuds/sinequanon
Summary: Clint wasn't sure what he expected from the Fairy Ball, but he wasn't expecting Stilinski to be the most fascinating creature there.





	

**Author's Note:**

> To everyone who encouraged me to continue this, I am truly grateful for your support. Happy Valentine's Day!

He had to admit, the guy was worth a second look, and not just because of the Queen’s interest. The man deftly maneuvered through a room full of creatures that shouldn't exist with a smile on his face and a colleague at each elbow. Clint had never noticed Stilinski before that day in the conference room, and he suspected that had been an intentional move on the other agent's part. Now that he was looking, though, Clint was definitely interested in knowing more about the other man.

Clint wasn't surprised by the younger man's popularity. For all that he had complained about attending the ball, he was obviously comfortable here. Agent Stilinski had given them a crash course in fae etiquette before they came--wear this, don't eat that, don’t touch, don't thank--but it didn't seem to matter whether or not _he_ followed the rules, and it was obvious that Graham and Rodriguez were counting on Stilinski to get them through the night in one piece. The looks on their faces every time Stilinski was approached by a less-than-human creature was almost worth the fact that Clint had been forced to listen to Stark’s formalwear advice multiple times this evening. If the other two agents’ expressions were any indication, they were learning a lot of unexpected information about their office mate with each successive person they met. Based on what little Clint knew of the agent, the archer wasn't surprised.

Unfortunately, all of Hawkeye’s observations about the other agent thus far had been from a distance. He'd found a patch of wall about ten minutes after they’d arrived and hardly moved from the spot for hours, partially because gathering intel was his job, and partially because the sheer number of teeth in the room made him nervous.

(Everyone had been remarkably conciliatory so far, but it was obvious that most of the people in the room were not human, and they made no effort to pretend otherwise.)

Of course, even if Clint was enjoying the view, Stilinski was largely an unknown, and the Avenger had a job to do. Clint’s orders had been simple: gather as much intelligence about the fae and Agent Stilinski as possible, and try not to start any inter-species incidents. Thankfully, other than a few gropes and come-hither looks, he’d mostly been able to keep to himself. Sadly, it meant that he was mostly stuck watching the younger agent from a distance.

“I hear you are skilled with the bow,” a surprisingly human-looking man said from next to him. Only years of training kept Clint from jumping in surprise; he hadn't heard or seen the other man approach. Despite that (because Clint was willing to admit to himself that he might have been slightly distracted with watching Stilinski) it was the way he carried himself, like his feet were barely touching the floor, that told Clint that the man was fae.

Unwilling to admit his unease in front of a potential threat, the human cocked an eyebrow instead. “I'm all right,” he agreed easily enough. “Why do you ask?”

The fae lifted his shoulders in a barely-there shrug. “I am something of an archer myself. We should have a contest, and test your skill to mine.”

Clint hesitated. Well, Fury had said that he wanted him to learn as much about the Court’s capabilities as possible.

“That's a horrible idea,” a voice said, and Stiles was suddenly beside him, a protective hand on the Avenger’s elbow. “Besides,” he added, smirking at the other man, “everyone knows you cheat.”

Rather than get upset, the fae smirked back and tilted his head in acknowledgment. “You always ruin my fun,” he commented, before stepping away as quickly as he had come.

Clint got the feeling he had just narrowly escaped danger, and one glance at Stiles confirmed it. His tone was light, but his eyes were dark, and the archer suppressed a shiver when he spoke.

“You're very popular tonight, and that's not necessarily a good thing. I know I already mentioned it once, but I'd especially advise _you_ against eating or drinking anything for the rest of the evening. Now that one person’s made a play, you're pretty much fair game from here on out, and I can see more than one adventurous person trying to take you home--and I don't mean just for the night.”

The agents behind Stiles paled considerably--evidently, that was an offer they'd gotten themselves.

“Is there any way to keep them off of me?”

All at once, Stiles's eyes lit up with mirth, and Clint could definitely see why the Queen liked him. “You could act a little less like a lone agent, so to speak.”

The archer frowned. “I came here with you.”

“Yeah, as a representative of SHIELD.” Stiles poked the other man in the chest. “You haven't moved from that spot all night. The only people that are going to approach you over here are the ones looking for trouble.”

Clint frowned even more when Rodriguez and Graham nodded in agreement, obviously willing to go along with whatever Stiles said. “They're agents, too,” he argued, gesturing to the pair.

Stiles nodded. “But everyone knows they're with me, and what will happen if anyone tries to mess with them. I can't make the same guarantee for you, considering we’ve barely interacted all evening. As far as the Courts are concerned, you're only here for intelligence purposes.”

“The Queen invited me,” the archer pointed out, not quite willing to mingle like the other man was suggesting--though he wouldn't necessarily object to getting closer to certain people.

Stiles grinned at Clint like he knew what the other man was thinking and reached over to needlessly fix the older man's tie. “Aine invited you because she thought we were going to give her a show, but if you're too busy playing spy, she's going to sic her cousin on me. Now, you’re a superhero; do your duty and save me already.”

“How?”

“You can start by asking me to dance.”

<> <>

 _Natasha would never let me hear the end of it if she could see me now,_ Clint thought critically as he held the man in his arms just a little bit tighter than he had been the moment before. He'd gathered much less intel about the Fae than expected (though they'd made the fact that they were varying degrees of terrifying crystal clear to everyone throughout the evening), and his objectivity on Agent Stilinski was practically nonexistent at this point.

Not that he minded.

After their first few awkward moments of misplaced limbs, he and Stiles had settled into a rhythm together and hadn't left the dance floor since. Instead, the two men had inched closer to each other as the evening wore on, and although Stiles kept a discreet eye on his colleagues, they spent the majority of their time talking about things that had nothing to do with SHIELD or the supernatural in general.

It was almost enough to make Clint forget the dozens of curious and disturbingly predatory stares on them from around the room.

“Either you’ve got something on your mind, or this is a really poor attempt at smothering me to death,” Stiles observed wryly as Clint unconsciously got rid of what little space was left between them.

"Just how do you know the Unseelie Queen of New York, exactly?" he asked instead, dodging Stiles's question.

Stiles smiled like he knew that Clint was deflecting their conversation, but let the change of topic pass. "I had a run-in with one of Mab's ladies-in-waiting a few years back," he said, "and the lady in question got sent to Aine's court to recover." He shrugged, as much as their closeness would allow. "I guess she talked about me."

Clint barely held in his snort as he thought about how difficult it had been for him to gather any kind of intel on Agent Stilinski or the supernatural in general over the past week. Evidently, most supernatural creatures were even more paranoid than Fury because striking up a conversation with a member of the supernatural community seemed nearly impossible, and Stiles was somehow included among their ranks. They might very well gossip among themselves, but that chattiness did not extent to outsiders. The most Clint had been able to get out of anyone about Stiles were a couple of sly smiles, and an, "Oh, yes. What a fascinating young man," from a woman that Clint was ninety-five percent sure was a succubus.

Clint had learned more about Stiles in the last two hours of dancing than he had in the past week, and every little bit he learned made him want to learn more, like the man was some sort of drug that Clint couldn't get enough of. He probably should have been uncomfortable with that realization, but he wasn't.

Instead, he all but plastered himself against the man in front of him and let his eyes drift closed to the sway of the music.

Stiles squeezed Clint's shoulder, bringing the archer back to the present. "Are you sure you didn't accidentally eat anything this evening?" he asked, eyeing his dance partner critically. "You're acting awfully possessive all of the sudden."

"What?" he asked, letting the feel of the younger man's hands anchor him as he tried to focus. His own hands drifted a little lower, and he wondered if Stiles would punch him if Clint kissed him.

"I'll have you know that I never put out on the first date," the younger man said wryly, gently repositioning the other agent's hands. "Besides," he added, glancing at the multicolored lights that had begun to flicker on the ceiling, "I'm pretty sure you're not in the right mind to consent right now."

Clint hadn't eaten anything that evening; it was important for Stiles to know that. "I didn't--"

"It's not your fault," Stiles's gaze softened, and the urge to kiss him returned with a vengeance. "There's a lot of Fae magic in the air right now, and it affects some people more strongly than others, that's all." He pulled back slightly to look at Clint, and the archer nearly whined at the loss of contact. "Let's get Rodriguez and Graham, and then I'll take you home. You'll be fine once you sleep it off."

The next two hours were an increasingly blurry mix of sounds and colors that made Clint's head swim. He vaguely remembered gathering the other two agents, Queen Aine's knowing gaze as she invited him back again, the cool leather of the car, and soothing fingers in his hair.

He woke the next morning to a glass of water and painkillers on his nightstand, and the hope that the others wouldn't tease him too much about the night before.

(Unfortunately, Natasha’s smirk as he entered the kitchen told him that that hope was likely an impossible one.)

**Author's Note:**

> I've planned five parts for this. I can't guarantee when the next part will be done, but it probably won't be for at least a couple of months.
> 
> Next week: the second half of my fairytale fic and a short crossover.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
